HalfLife: The Life of a Citizen
by Doctor Wallace Breen
Summary: Malcolm Breen, the sole relative of Breen, his nephew, finds himself deported to City 17. Breen ruined his life, and revenge is in the air.
1. Chapter 1: The train

**I do not own anything in portion with Half-Life and/or Valve, etc.**

**In this story, I'm going to give you only basic info on Malcolm's appearance, the rest is up to your imagination.**

**I know this is cheesy, that Malcolm is a.. relative of Breen, but, I thought, what the hell?**

Malcolm sat slouched, back against the train window. Relocated _again_?

When was this bullshit going to end?

He stared blankly at his reflection, thick glasses and brownish hair that covered his head in a mess, and his chin. He was an attractive man, for the most part. Not that he could mate, anyway, not since the Combine killed all human sperm with their goddamn technology.

He sighed, and looked up with most of his morale gone, he observed the green-plated compartment. Red seats lined the wall, bullet-ridden windows were set in, and a dirty floor of old newspapers and tickets. It looked to be in some sort of forest area.

Suddenly, the train stopped, causing Malcolm to shake violently.

Was it a bomb? Was it some sort of raid?

He shuddered, hearing the crackle of Civil Protection 'chatters'—well, mostly the CPs. Overwatch Units were racing through towards them from the thick bushes surrounding the now-stopped bus. One unit kicked the door open and marched in, baton in hand.

The Overwatch voice came over their radios simultaneously.

"Non-fundamental spotted in this area. Comply with your local Civil Protection teams."

After that, a CP chuckled grimly, and walked up to a couple seated in the corner, huddling together against the misty cold. The woman had brownish skin, hair in a messy bundle, with sleep-deprived eyes filling with tears. She trembled as the Civil Protection unit eyed them.

The unit, who had more of a female tone than the others gave a uprising 'Hmm' and spoke up. You, ctizen, come with us." She pointed her baton to the man, beckoning him. The man, dumbfounded, got up and began to shake, following the unit through the rows of chairs, and towards the door. Behind him, the woman burst into tears, bursting upwards, screaming "PLEASE DON'T TAKE HIM!" she wailed, running towards the female CP. Almost on instinct, the CP slammed her baton into the other woman's chest, a sound resembeling a taser shot, and the woman collapsed, in a pathetic heap, crying and screaming—clawing her way towards nowhere.

Malcolm had forgotten love— it's boundless loyalty to ones partner, especially in times like these had gotten people killed multiple times in front of him, and this pathetic heap was just one example.

Malcolm feared the worst.

To his relief, the CP unit, signing with a hint of.. 'remorse' turned towards her, knelt down and patted the womans head like you would a pathetic dog.

"He'll be on the next train, citizen." She said, turning the woman over.

"Physiological depravation, ID number 5263, 17." She spoke into the radio, and left the train into the dark forest, dragging the man behind, which just store at the woman with green, staring eyes.

The train started up again, but the woman remained still, sobbing silently on the floor. Malcolm sighed, and walked over slightly, and stared at her.

"He.. He'll be fine.. This kind of thing happens all the time, I mean…" he trailed off, kneeling down.

"My name is Malcolm Bre-- Malcolm. What's yours?"

She shivered. "Uh.. My name is Amanda Creator.. That was my husband, Mark. I.." she burst out into tears, Malcolm helpless as she painfully gripped onto his shoulder.

"It' alright. I'm sure we'll see him soon." he lied.


	2. Chapter 2 : The Station

**Alright, I'm gonna introduce a new character now. Bear with me.**

**Now, this takes place about 3 months before Gordon Freeman is removed from stasis, note the Combine are slightly more humane now as the resistance has not yet been formed entirely.**

**Yes, I know I suck.**

The train stopped with a satisfying 'thump' as it hit the concrete edge. During the trip, Amanda fell asleep and was just beginning to come to. Unfortunately, Malcolm just became more and more drowsy and yet he couldn't sleep, he felt.. obliged to keep these unsuspecting citizens safe, some foreign loyalty against the Combine.

No, he thought. He didn't want to become a stalker with metal legs, best to live out his days as best he could in this horrible city.

Damn that Breen.

He was shook from thought as the other citizens began to rise, grabbing their luggage and items, and continuing on to--

"_parts unknown, welcome to City 17. It's safer here._" said the voice of his uncle through a large hologram thing that he hadn't the slightest clue how it was made.

After that, he himself got up with Amanda still behind him.

"Malcolm!" she called out, tossing a pen towards him. "You forgot this." she said with a wink.

A weapon! Why would he ever think of attacking the Combine? Hell, he wanted to so very much, yet there was no way he'd kill one. Exiting the train into the surprisingly fresh air, he sighed deeply and continued on, ignoring the Breencast overhead. A strange creature sat opposite a barbed wire, under watch of a Civil Protection unit. It was sweeping up garbage into a pile while muttering some guttural language.

"Malcolm.. Thank you for everything. But.. I'm going to stay here and wait for Mark. See you around, hopefully." she added with a pat. He replied with a nod and continued his way.

The next area was some sort of food court, with a large concessional stand in the middle. One woman at a stall, reading a Combine newspaper titled 'C17 – MEDIA'.

He walked up to her, and tapped on the counter.

"Hello?" he asked the woman, who looked up with strained eyes.

"Would you like a chocolate bar or something _else_ to make you forget?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Word to the wise, though. Don't buy ANYTHING the Combine sell at their little stores. They'll be shut down soon enough anyway and that old ration machine will be the only damn food source. Ever tasted that crap?"

She paused, and looked closer at him.

"You look different. You aren't..?"

"No. NO!" he said, surprised by her question.

"..American?" she asked, giving a chuckle.

"Freak." she muttered, looking back towards her paper.

He continued around the corner, before being grabbed by a man looking to be in his late 50s.

"Resist." the man whispered, before Malcolm ripped away from his grip. A large chain-link fence made room for a line to form towards a large operation area. One route said 'Nova Prospekt', the other reading 'City 17'. It was up to the camera, he thought.

Walking towards the entrance, which was empty, a large camera came from a wall panel, and took a few shots. Moments later, a mechanical voice stated 'Malcolm Breen', followed by 'Relocated from City 11. Apartment block 56.' it continued to read his basics, such as credits he got for certain objects, and his security clearance. All 'neutral'. Then, finally, it said 'Enter' as a Civil Protection unit pulled him in, and pushed him out the other way. As he rounded the corner, he saw a CP with her gun drawn (as the voice commands she was shouting were less deep).

"Don't shoot!" the man shouted. He had short black hair and looked of Indian origin.

The CP ignored it, and turned towards Malcolm. "You! Stay there!" she shouted to him, Malcolm doing as he was told. She yelled at the man to get on the ground and keel, in an almost execution-like-manner. The man did so with apparent grief, his hands shaking voilently. She moved towards Malcolm, her pistol shoved in his face, like an annoying animal. She circled him, and began searching for weapons.

He thought he was screwed, he had a pen half-sticking out of his pocket, after all. And, as if completing his fears, she found it.

She screamed something in a foreign language-- sounded Chinese, and shot a bullet past his head, prompting her to reload. In a hassle, he grabbed the pen and did exactly what Amanda gave him it for..

He brought the pen down upon the Civil Protection unit with incredible force, getting her in the neck. Overwhelmed, she tripped on a nearby bottle and fell to the ground, grabbing her throat. She gagged and gagged, until finally she stopped breathing. Within moments, an alert came from her radio.

"Civil unit Sagun-G67, life signs lost. Interpretation, response code three" it said in a calm English accent. Malcolm was now a fugitive, if they found him. He had to run, he had to. The man he had 'saved' nodded in thanks, and then ran for his life, as did Malcolm.

Now was a maze of walls and corners filled with propaganda and citizens, they were almost there..

However, as he turned the final corner, he met the face of the man he hated-- Breen himself.


	3. Chapter 3 : Breen

Breen pointed towards Malcolm as the two Combine solders behind him came fourth towards Malcolm. The room was absolutely pitch black except for a small ceiling light that shone almost devilishly on Breen. He heard the door close behind them.

Malcolm sighed and allowed himself to be arrested, as the other man was beaten first. He supposed Breen was a bit more 'gentle' with family, even though as his family was murdered..

He shook off the thought and was pushed towards Breen, who was grinning.

"Malcolm. How.. good to see you. How's your mother?" he asked with a chuckle.

"You fucking asshole!" Malcolm lashed out as his uncle with a swift rage, almost breaking from the grasp of the solders. He could hear the other man screaming in protest as he was handcuffed with strange blue restraints, which he probably had on, too.

Breen smiled again. "Little Malcolm.. But they had to die. They were a danger to the purification of human nature. They aimed towards extinction, while I wanted only the best for humanity.. Frankly, I wouldn't have been here today if they hadn't.. served humanity, so to speak.." he said with a short laugh, before motioning the two solders to take him and the other away.

Malcolm was pushed to the floor, which was, surprisingly, warm. It was some sort of greenish light field-- a force field. The solider raised his fists, before Breen spoke up prompting the solider to stop.

"Take him to the citadel and.." he couldn't make out the rest. The solider nodded, and removed a small syringe from a shoulder-pocket, and injected Malcolm with a large dose.

"Get the hell off m.." he mumbled, the air becoming thick with colors, and then all went black.

-

Breen looked towards Malcolm, who was on the ground twitching. He shook his head in shame. His only relative was against him, against purification. What a fool!

"Let's go." he stated, leading the two solders to the APC they had under heavy guard. This was a personal and rare visit away from the citadel, resistance could come at any time and catch them off guard. He began to walk faster, sighing with relief as he finally boarded the cramped space of the APC.

As soon as Malcolm and the man were loaded up, the hatch was sealed.

"Let's go." Breen said to the driver, as the APC sped down the abandoned streets.


	4. Chapter 4: Ranting

**This is the chapter in which Breen gets bitch-slapped. Enjoy. Edit: Apparently my 'question mark plus exclamation ****mark' things aren't working. Sorry about that.**

Malcolm awoke to darkness. He feared blindness, remembering the injection the solider had given him.

The air was artificially 'cold', yet he remained strangely lukewarm. Upon moving, he found himself restrained and unable to move all but his head and feet. About to call for help, like that would do anything, he was suddenly blinded by a blue light directly in front of him. The Overwatch radio sound popped from what seemed next to him, which was strange. The space seemed endless..

At least he wasn't blind.

".._unpunished. Be wise. Be safe. Be aware._" came a familiar voice of his uncle. What the hell was going on? Suddenly, the blackness turned into a white light, something moving him out of the dark and into a room.. He found himself in front of a wooden desk, a large view screen and two windows overlooking the city. Dr. Breen was nowhere in sight.

After about 30 minutes of hanging there, muscles aching, he was about to sleep, something to pass the time from this uncomfortable hanging, when he once again heard Breen.

"He's in here?" Breen asked, followed by a garbled 'yes, administrator,' Breen came walking up to his desk, sitting down and looking at some papers, muttering to himself.

Another 10 minutes past, until Breen looked up.

"So. Malcolm. Here we are. The focal point of Earth, of humanity. Of what we could be. Amazing what our benefactors can do, don't you agree?" he said in a charismatic voice like he did in his speeches. Malcolm continued to struggle, hopelessly.

"You killed your own son, you bastard." Malcolm said, hoping to spark some sympathy in the man. Unfortunately, Breen was too far gone.

"Richard? Well, although I appreciate that he escorted me out of Black Mesa, he was simply not fit for our purposes. I'm sure you can understand that."

"What? What the fuck-- so you could make him into a goddamn stalker? You heartless--" he was cut off as Breen pressed a button on his desk, which sent electrical currents through his body. The restraint must be used exclusively for Breen's 'personal' affairs.

Malcolm gasped for air as the shock stopped after three or four seconds, and looked towards his uncle.

"W.. Why the hell did you hand us over? Do you honestly think--" he was once again cut off by Breen's silencing device.

"Malcolm.. I was just in the 'studio,' talking about a woman named Alyx Vance, daughter of my ex-colleague Eli Vance. I'm sure you heard of him, labeling him as some sort of God in your god-forsaken 'stations', scattered throughout the badlands where the creatures our benefactors protect us from lurk. The truth, Malcolm, is he was simply a scientist during Black Mesa. He, and many others, have devoted their near entire lives to a fruitless cause, that would eventually result in their deaths. They resist our benefactors, and risk leaving all of Earth to rot in the mess we created. Why do you think they do it, Malcolm? To-to risk immunity from cancer, from AIDS, from the mere cold, and yet you, and many others resist us. The 'Combine' want only the best for humanity. And you are all oblivious to even the smallest good intention they have--"

"Don't be fucking daft! Why do they resist? Maybe because they killed all the children of Earth and banned us from mating! Maybe, because every day they wake up on the floor, or on a dirty bed, wondering "will I die today, or tomorrow?" while hearing the apartment next door be raided by Civil Protection under false allegations! Maybe, they want freedom, _Wallace_, ma—"

yet again silenced by Breen's machine. "EVENTUALLY THEY WILL WIN, UNCLE, AND YOU WILL BE.." he shouted through the pain before once again being embraced by darkness.

Breen pressed another button on his desk, and watched Malcolm be carried through a large door in the roof, and sighed. He began to think, think about what Malcolm had said..

_Was_ the Combine right for Earth?


End file.
